Flying Over Michigan
by Optronix Prime
Summary: Cecil had a very interesting dream last night and shares it with you during his typical show, though unfortunately the Sheriff's Secret Police get involved when Cecil talks a little too much.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Welcome To Night Vale. **

Breathe in, breathe out. Heart beat thumping, thumping louder and louder. Screams filling your lungs as you run, run away, far, far away. Welcome to Night Vale.

Hello fellow citizens, creatures of the dark, hooded figures in the Dog Park, and angels that legally do not exist (who are all named Erika). I have some very interesting news to share with you. I had the strangest dream last night and I have the unusual feeling that some of you may have had it too. But first I must talk about the important things going on in our small desert community.

Over the long weekend, our valiant team the Spiderwolves traveled to Desert Bluffs eight times over the course of forty-eight hours to take on the Sunbeams. Unfortunately, the drive was long, time consuming and frustrating according to team member Trevon Murphy. The team and their coach had all decided to meet outside of Big Rico's Pizza Friday morning at nine o'clock sharp to make what should have been a short trip to Desert Bluffs. The morning started with Angus Dunley forgetting what time to meet the bus. Naturally he couldn't instant message anyone via computer because, as we all know, computers were banned. And he couldn't send a letter because writing utensils were also banned by City Council. Not that I'm complaining. Writing can be a very dangerous activity.

Anyway, between Angus missing the bus, metal alloy-eating cactuses, and someone forgetting all of their baseball equipment, among other things, it was a long weekend for our favorite baseball team. Everyone made it just in time because the Sunbeams were getting extremely antsy. Literally. If the Spiderwolves hadn't showed up, I'm sure the Desert Bluff Sunbeams would have been suffocated by the sheer number of ants that had stormed onto the field in an arrowhead formation chatting, "Flesh is fresh." Some bystanders speculate that this was just another failure at advertisement for Subway. They've been trying to get people to go to their new location out in the Car Lot by Old Woman Josie's for months. Everybody knows that Arby's is where it's at. Why get your heart eaten out and served to you when you can have a romantic dinner at Arby's with you boyfriend.

Plus, on a happier note, since a certain someone's boyfriend is trapped out in some alternate world, the Night Vale Spiderwolves won with a home run in the last inning thanks to Trevon Murphy. Luckily, the trip home was much easier than the trip to the field.

Now about that dream I mention earlier. The night started off normal enough. I was getting into my pajamas, rubbing strawberry-kiwi lotion into my skin, before peeling the bed sheets back and jumping into the abyss beneath the sheets. I tumbled down into the blackness before touching the fluffy bottom, mostly uninjured. A few scrapes from the jagged spires protruding from the cliff walls and a good bruise on my knee, but a great landing! Totally stuck it. The monsters under my bed gave me an 8.5 for my landing and lack of blood staining my sleeping wear. I then went to the dream creator and put it on as I pretended to sleep. The dream was terrifying and gruesomely realistic unlike usual. Usually the dreams provided as we imitated normal sleeping patterns were very cartoonish and child-like in nature. Last night's dream was completely off the charts.

There I was standing in the street just outside Dark Owl records. Others were standing there too, some I knew but many I didn't. They all had blank expressions as they stared down at the pavement. A deep, throaty growl rumbled up from beneath our feet, beneath the road, beneath all of Night Vale. The sound was around us, it was in us. It was coming from us. The noise of everyone was deafening. Had I been able to, I would have clapped my hands over my ears, but I found that I was unable to move them. Suddenly, bubbling up from the sewers, flowing out into the street and over our shoes was a thick, reddish liquid. I could only stare at it as it came closer. I could not move, listeners I was frozen to the spot as the boiling, steaming blood color liquid rushed towards me. The closer it came the louder the rumbling became and there was nothing I could do as the level of the liquid rose.

But more on my horrifying dream after a word from our sponsors.

Drip, drip, drip. Do you hear that? Can you smell that? Fizz...fizz...fizz... Cold and clear, everything is cold and clear. It's so cold, arctic cold. Fizzing and dripping, spilling and bubbling up over your hands. You understand your life's purpose. You finally understand why you are here! You understand everything. Pepsi - open yours now.

Okay, okay, I know I said I would tell you more about my dream after our little break, but...Station Management told me to report something useful or else they'll pull from the airwaves and replace me with Intern Lillian who started with us last week. She is an exchange student from a border town between Texas and Mexico called something dreadful like Rojo Rio. Lillian is fluent in Spanish, English, and Gleck. For those of you who may not know, Gleck is the language that the ancient Indian tribe Lulana which used to live out in the Sand Wastes just outside of Night Vale. Cool huh? No one has spoken Gleck in about 120 years, so it's good that Intern Lillian is bringing it back.

Speaking of bringing things back, Lucille Jakobo, who lives just next door to me, was wearing her hair up in a crazy, curly poof that was dyed three different colors that all made your eyes bleed if you looked at them for longer than five seconds at a time. She was also sporting purple legging, neon pink high tops, and hoop earrings big enough to hold an orange. Lucille jingled as she walked towards the Moonlite All-Nite Diner because of all the bracelets on her wrists. I think it's safe to say that Lucille was teleported into the future last week to bring back the fashion of the 1980s. Why do I think this? I haven't had a neighbor until last week and because she has a small tattoo on the back of her neck that says '1984'. Or perhaps she was just commemorating the year that Transformers first hit television.

I have just sent Lillian out to go and follow up on Lucille and whether or not she is a time-traveler. More on this when Lillian returns.

Now, about the dream. Where were we...? Oh yes! The rumbling and the blood in the street and being glued to the pavement as if I had a mixture of sticky tack and gum placed on the soles of my shoes. The red water-like substance kept rising like up over my ankles, up over my knees, rising higher and higher until I was neck deep, the liquid pouring into my mouth. Strangely enough it tasted like Cherry Kool-Aid. Then a whispering voice echoed around me, diving into my ears and reverberating down into my very soul. The voice was vaguely cheerful and reminded me of the flight attendant from my trip to Europe.

"Thank you for flying with Michigan airlines. Please stand still while we collect you for departure." Since I was near drowning in the Cherry Kool-Aid flavored blood, I could do little more than wiggle hopelessly (as I still couldn't move most of my body) and gasp for breath as my lungs filled up with the foul substance I was standing in.

Long silver cords wrapped around my biceps, several more slipping into the liquid. I could feel them looping around my waist and ankles, tightening their hold on me. With an almighty tug, I was freed from watery goo and pulled into the air. Suddenly I could move again. I looked around and saw what could be described as most of Night Vale being pulled from the bloody streets by sterling silver ropes and hoisted into the air. A few people ahead of me was Old Woman Josie screaming for the angels to save her from the mechanical menace that had saved her from drowning in the streets – not that Angels exist according to the Sheriff's Secret Police; which of course they don't. Everybody knows that.

Okay, my apologies everyone, but I've been getting complaints from Station Management and a few nasty phones calls yelling at me to report some actual news. And since Lillian got back about five minutes ago, I guess we have some news.

Lillian has just given me her notebook with the interview questions she asked Lucille Jakobo. Wow Lillian, this are some deep questions you asked her. Impressive. Would you mind getting me a cup of coffee? Thank you.

Question 1: What is your birthday? Answer: February 29th 1960. Side note – fact checked. Actual leap year. This makes her 55 years old.

Question 2: Where is your favorite place to visit? Answer: Mino Lake, Lora Lora. Side note – fact checked. Lora Lora was a small island country in 268 b.c. and sunk into the sea.

Question 3: Why did you choose those colors to dye your hair? Answer: "Because the blood of fallen soldiers makes good hair dye. It lasts longer."

Question 4: What is your favorite science fiction movie or book? Answer: Doctor Who and _What's Its Problem?_ Side note – fact checked. Book_ What's Its Problem?_ has never been published anywhere and doesn't exist.

Question 5: Are you a time-traveler. Answer: No, I am an interdimensional organic being from a planet you won't discover until the year 2347 that was sent to your planet undercover to infiltrate your government and take down the human race before you can destroy our home galaxy. You disgusting creatures think you're so high and mighty, but just you wait! My people will… Side note - I stopped listening and left Big Rico's Pizza when Lucille started screaming in a language that made the barstools melt into bubbling pools that burned holes in the floor.

Well thank you Lillian for conducting this interview with Lucille Jakobo and fetching me this delicious cup of coffee. Sadly Lucille is not a time-traveler. Meeting a real-life time-traveler would have been so cool! Disappointingly it was just another alien that claims we try to kill them at some point in the distant future. Obviously we didn't kill them all if they come to Earth trying to undermine our government from the inside and start the fall of humanity. Silly aliens.

Alright, back to my dream I've been telling you about.

So I was being pulled up towards the belly of the craft that was carrying everyone. A small hatch opened and I tumbled inside. Flashing buttons, knobs, and switches lined the walls and front panel where a steering wheel was located. The voice I had heard earlier spoke again:

"Thank you for choosing Michigan Airlines. We will be flying over Michigan in about twenty minutes. Please remain in your seat until the violet light flashes twice. If the violet light flashes more or less than two times, it is unsafe to leave your seat at that time. If the light is any color other than violet, the flight has been hijacked by pirates. This shouldn't be alarming if the light flashes another color. Please remain in your seat until the light flashes violet two times. This has been your inflight automotive recording. Hope to see you again."

I looked around and entered a small room. Two chairs were there in front of me; one empty, one filled with an actual person and not just a hologram pretending to fly the plane. The person in the chair swiveled around and guess who it was! Guess! It was Carlos! My beautiful, gorgeous, brilliant Carlos was flying the plane. He had saved everyone in Night Vale! Isn't that amazing? My boyfriend saved the whole town! Though a few things lead me to believe this wasn't entirely a dream. First off, when I woke up this morning, I was on the couch. Secondly, Carlos was in my kitchen making breakfast! As you may remember, Carlos has been stuck in the desert otherworld for some time now and is BACK! Ladies and gentlemen, listeners of all ages, my scientist with perfect hair is returned to me! I don't understand how this is possible, but he's here and that's what matters. The third and final reason that leads me to think that my dream actually occurred was – AHH! Thwack!

"And now please enjoy this weather update."

_I can feel you in the rising tide_

_Can you feel me by the fire side?_

_From the moonlight_

_Through the cherry trees_

_Open the roof and take in the view_

_'Cause you're my sweetest dream_

_Come true_

_Color the dusk, deep navy blue_

_And try to be brave_

'_Cause I'll be right beside you_

_There's a world so high_

_Hold out your hands_

_And you can go anywhere_

_So reach for the stars_

'_Cause I'll be waiting up there_

_And you can finally fly_

'_Cause you'll be lighter than air_

_Color the dusk, deep navy blue_

_And try to be brave_

'_Cause I'll be right beside you_

_There's a world so high_

_Hold out your hands_

_And you can go anywhere_

_So reach for the stars_

'_Cause I'll be waiting up there_

_And you can finally fly_

'_Cause you'll be lighter than air_

Ahem, listeners, I have been informed by the Sheriff's Secret Police that the dream I had last night was exactly that: a dream. None of the events I explained today actually happened. Everything I said was completely fictional and never happened. For those of you who had the same exact dream as me, there was a poison that has been contaminating Night Vale's water supply the last few days and the DNA has just gotten around to cleaning it up. Please do not be alarmed by my broadcast today because it did not happen and will never happen. Thank you for listening to this Public Service Announcement from the Sheriff's Secret Police.

Well Night Vale, after a vicious encounter with the Sheriff of Night Vale himself, I must visit the hospital and pray that my arm doesn't fall off before I get there.

Good night, Night Vale. Good night.

"_Welcome To Night Vale _is a production of Commonplace Books. It is written by Joseph Fink and Jeffrey Cranor and produced by Joseph Fink. The voice of Night Vale is Cecil Baldwin. The voice of the Onboard Computer System was Amy Redding. Original music by Disparition. All of it can be downloaded for free at . This episode's weather was _Youtopia_ by Armin Van Buren featuring Adam Young. Find out more at . Comments? Questions? Email us at nightvale or follow us on Twitter nightvaleradio. Check out for more info on this show and all sorts of cool Night Vale stuff you can own. And while you're there, consider clicking the donate link. That'd be cool of you. Today's proverb: Reach into your pocket and pull out whatever you're feeling. If it's a hip bone, you've reached too far.

**Author's Note: First Welcome To Night Vale fic. Hope you liked it!**

**Please review! It only helps me improve as a writer.**

**~Nix**


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